Trip of Love is a recreation, through music, of a particular moment in the history of our country. When the audience enters the theater, the very walls throb with psychedelic images of mushrooms and ephemera, all done in neon shades of blue, purple, red, and pink. The heroine of the hour is Alice, who falls through the looking glass of the 1960s, into what is alternately a drug induced dream, a Vegas floor show, and a candy-sweet romance.
Strangely, there’s not a lot of drug taking on stage, so Alice must have been particularly susceptible. If I recall correctly, there was also a lot of bread baking that took place, people developed an aversion to bathing, and nobody who wasn’t participating in a body building tournament had the totally ripped gym bodies we see onstage. But then, as the saying goes, if you remember the ‘60s, you weren’t really there.
What we think of as the 60s actually had life well into the 70s. President Kennedy was inaugurated in January, 1961. It was a time of pillbox hats, radio hits that were anything but daring, and a U.S.A that was prosperous and bright. We were going to the moon. We were going to end poverty. If anyone was actively involved in rocking the boat, most of us were blissfully unaware. On a sunny day in Dallas, everything changed. Our golden-boy President was murdered, and we watched him die over and over again, courtesy of a film which accidentally caught the event. The country mourned, and we realized that if the life of the leader of the free world could be so easily snuffed out, no one was safe. As a nation, we became much more cynical, and when President Johnson escalated the war in Vietnam, the youth culture exploded into protest on the one hand, and apathy on the other. African-Americans had waited long enough to get equal rights, and another front was opened in the explosive temperature of those turbulent times. The Vietnam War ended on April 30, 1975, with the searing image of desperate people, who had helped America, clinging futilely to the outside of the last departing helicopter. There’s very little of the anguish of those days incorporated into this show, and for the most part, that’s okay. Where Trip of Love goes off the rails is the jarring misinterpretation of the music of the day. “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?” is not a sugary song about a boy giving a girl a posy. It’s about the futility of war, in particular, the war that was sending home boys in body bags. “Blowin’ in the Wind” wasn’t about young men at war; it was a civil rights anthem. While the Samba dancing is fun to see (we know the moves from “Dancing with the Stars”), “The Girl From Ipanema” simply doesn’t gel with the rest of the program. And how does motorcycle riding figure into the equation? A word of high praise must be given here to the costume design by Gregg Barnes. The gowns are absolutely divine; the way the Samba dresses look and move couldn’t be better, and the long frocks, complete with spangles, are to die for. Likewise, the scenic design by James Walski and Robin Wagner are lush and inventive. “Wipe Out” alone is worth the price of admission; the undulating waves and constantly moving surfers create an atmosphere of sheer exuberance. James Walski who created, directed, and choreographed the production gets high marks for keeping his large cast and various styles of song and dance in concert. While there are some clashing moments that make us wonder if we really need the scanty clad young men and the writhing young women, I’d like to thank the men who don’t wax, and send a message to the incredibly supple Tara Palsha- Wow! The performances aren’t uniformly praiseworthy. Most commendable is Laurie Wells, who does most of the heavy lifting with the ballads “Windmills of Your Mind,” “Moon River,” and “Both Sides Now.” She sings from the heart, and adds a great deal of warmth to what often feels like a strictly tongue-in-cheek outing. Some of the songs are just great fun; it’s impossible to listen to “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” without wondering what were we all thinking. Hard to believe, but at the time “These Boots Were Made For Walking” was banned from the airwaves as being too suggestive. “White Rabbit” was an inevitable choice, but it actually does fit with the theme. And “You Don’t Own Me” became a rallying cry for scores of young women just starting to realize the power they’d been taught to yield. There are no spoken words in the show, and very little plot, which serves to speed the evening along. However, it’s difficult to know the names of the characters when they’re never articulated. A word to the screaming, at times intrusive, claque who hooted and hollowed throughout the performance: Don’t. It’s almost as off-putting as a ringing cell phone. While Trip of Love is obviously meant for sheer entertainment, it’s also important to be able to reflect on the tempestuous time period it represents. For those of us who lived through those days, nostalgia is tinged with sorrow. Did we learn anything? Are we more mellow and wiser, or just older and more tired? The answer is . . . wait for it . . . blowin’ in the wind.
